Poetaster
by cheesynoodle
Summary: One day, when Kanda was just a child, he met a boy in the boiler room. It's rather hard to grow up when you're a ghost in your own house. …The defining moment of his childhood, and how he got where he is today. Poor thing.


**POETASTER.**

One day, when Kanda was just a child, he met a boy in the boiler room.

This was back before the Order, before even Mugen or Akumas even existed. Back when Kanda Yuu was just a little boy with a straight crop of black hair and a rather odd obsession about keeping clean. He lived in a small house surrounded by other small houses, which each had a tiny little garden for flowers in the front and back. He remembers the clothesline and the umbrella-shaped hangar draped with his mother's kimonos and his little sister's yukata. He remembers his own was a bright yellow, and he hated it. He hated it even more than his red one.

His father worked in the close-by city, but often went early and stayed late, sometimes going for drinks with the rest of the businessmen at the firm. When he came home Kanda could sometimes smell the musty tang of the beer, but always, always the scent of cigarettes. It also laid out like a languid beast around the house, though the walls and doors and shoji screens. Kanda would later wonder if he'd get lung-cancer when he was older, but then even later than that laugh and think that he'd probably die before it could finally happen.

Kanda, however small the time he saw his father, adored the man. During the short moments he saw him, his father would always talk to him about what a big, strong man he would grow up to be, and make him promise to become just so. He'd then treat him to a sweet (though Kanda had never particularly liked sweets) and swing him around like an airplane.

This happened once or twice a month.

Usually the moments were even shorter than this, and it'd be a flash of black or navy blue or charcoal grey accompanied by white and then he'd be gone. Similarly, these encounters would sometimes become few and far between, especially so when Kanda's father was working on a particularly complex or difficult project. Sometimes Kanda, not having properly seen his father for a few weeks would sneak down during the night and wait for him to come home.

Tiny, miniature Kanda, his short-cropped hair a black line about his ears, clutching his stuffed rabbit at his small chest, sitting on the stairs. Eyes darting about swiftly, narrowed in a way that he'd never out grow, one of the few things, untrusting of the darkness. When his father came home, bringing that scent and sometimes others, he'd run up to hug him about the knees, and his father would chuckle and pat his head, drooping line in his skin around his eyes. His father had always been that way though–tired looking, like his face was going to slip right off if the wind blew hard enough–that Kanda never really thought about it.

It was during on these nights, when he hadn't seen his father in what felt like weeks, nor his mother who had taken sick to bed, that he heard something. His body was already alert and over-sensitized from the uncomfortable silence of the sleeping house, eyes flashing black and white periodically. When he heard this noise however, his posture didn't change. Rather his back became just a slight bit stiffer and his eyes a bit more tight and narrowed.

He heard it again, the same kind of _shwiiiiick!_ Noise that sliced through whatever thoughts he had floating about his over-sized little noodle. He didn't like that.

_Shwiiiiiick!_ He didn't like that either. Nor did he the next, or the one after that, and the one after that one.

So, logically, he went to go stop it.

Quite soundlessly he tread through the house, feet socked in spic-and-span white socks, hardwood floor slippery and cool beneath his feet. He imagined himself a ghost, quietly treading through the house, a silent specter. His face was blank, a polished white shell except for two polished black stones. Little Rabbit held securely by one hand, as if being led along.

This image however, didn't show how truly scared Kanda was. But his daddy had said to him, quite a few times, what being a big boy, being a man entailed. And not being afraid was one of them. Kanda perhaps, took it a little too literally, and as a result felt rather annoyed with himself for feeling even the slightest of twinges.

He could tell where it was coming from my listening. As he moved through the small kitchen and cramped living room, passed through and down the entrance hall, he stopped. Standing in front of the small boiler room, he clutched Rabbit closer to him. The noise had stopped now, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat, throbbing in his chest, slightly faster than normal.

He stood there for a good few minutes, the sound not sounding again. He was faced with a decision: did he really want to open that door? The noise had stopped hadn't it? Wasn't he all right now? Shouldn't he go back to his perch and forget about that odd noise? After all, they said curiosity killed the cat.

The word 'kill' seemed to stick around and reverberate against his skull, burning the imaginary word into his retinas.

As if to answer this question for him, the noise sounded again, this time most certainly louder and closer than before.

Kanda opened the door.

Darkness greeted him. He had somehow expected a rush of warm air and a blaze of fiery light, having never opened the door before. As all children think, Kanda had somehow always picture the boiler as some evil living thing left sitting perpetually in that closet at the end of the hall. He was wrong of course, and instead saw as his eyes adjusted that it was just a boiler, grey in color, pipes and odd dials scattered about the body.

Oddly enough, he didn't hear the noise again. Instead, after a few minutes of standing there with the door wide open, he heard a kind of sniffling noise. Kanda squinted, frowning.

"Hello?" His little voice seemed to stop short in the small space, and instead bounce back along the hallway. He glanced back behind him at a gutsy urge. Nothing was out of place however, and instead he turned back. When he turned back however, his eyes widened a fraction, and his grip on Rabbit increased so that his small knuckles paled.

There was a boy standing there. Right in front of him, almost the mirror image of himself except for the fact that he was a bit more mussed-looking, grim clouding his skin and darkening his features, making his black eyes look larger than they really were. That, and also a disturbingly wide grin that stretched across his face.

"Hullo." The little boy said, voice soft as a mouse's.

Kanda frowned, pulling Rabbit up to his chest. The other boy, looking down at his own hands, seemed to see that he didn't have a stuffed animal for the first time, and frowned. His own frown would have made the odd child look even more like the original Kanda, were it not that the rest of the face didn't move at all. Actually, now that it occurred to Kanda, the same thing happened when the child smiled. It's lips moved, jaw's skin stretching and lifting or pulling and pushing down, but the rest of the face remained still. Eyes were black and hollow, more likely reflecting his surroundings than emotions, and the eyebrows stayed to thin slashes of black through an even thicker line of bangs.

A shiver ran up Kanda's spine, and he brought Rabbit to his chest, seeking some form of comfort.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

Kanda's frown didn't lift, and neither did the other's. It was several seconds until Kanda opened his mouth, "My father's going to be home soon."

Surprisingly, the other's face didn't scowl or frown, but instead lifted to a slight smile, not nearly as disturbing as the other emotions he had displayed. Kanda wasn't convinced, however.

"That's good."

He didn't elaborate, and Kanda didn't ask, although he desperately wanted to. Instead the look-a-like stretched and yawned, as if waking from a very long, pleasant nap, and was now ready to get up and about.

It is to be said that from the very moment Kanda laid eyes on the child–no, before even, because Kanda didn't like surprises–Kanda hadn't liked this boy. He didn't like him at all, and felt him rather rude. More so when the boy brushed right by him, bringing the smell of salt and something sharp and metallic, like copper with him.

The boy started investigating the house, starting with the door mat at the entrance to the house, looking at the shoes lined up neatly by the lip of the flooring, eyes narrowed as if judging who's were who's. He went from there to the living room and kitchen, muttering odd things beneath his breath in a language Kanda didn't recognize. The boy was about to head for the staircase when Kanda suddenly stopped him.

"Kanda Yuu."

He didn't want him to go up those stairs.

"Hm?" The boy turned around, eyebrows raising for the first time, though the expression looked forced and awkward on him.

Kanda looked back at him, expressionless. Inside he was a mess of fear and anxiety, curiosity and wariness. "My name." He said, voice sounding awkward and incorrect on the air, like he had just mispronounced or said something oddly.

The boy let a small smile cross his face, and Kanda felt almost as if it were a gift to him, like the boy was telling him a secret. Kanda felt another sentence come up inside him almost without thought, letting it spill from his lips,

"What's yours?"

The boy smiled a little wider, and Kanda still did not like it. "I don't have one yet. Will you give me one?"

Kanda frowned at this, rather disconcerted. Everyone had a name, didn't they? This boy must have one, right?

"Won't you give me one, Yuu?"

The other's voice broke into his thoughts, and the sickly sweet way he said his name made his scowl. "No." He said, mostly annoyed at the use of his first name by this strange boy. Said boy was pouting in the most disgusting way, making Kanda frown all the more deeply.

"No?" He said incredulously, "But I need one. Wouldn't you hate not having a name? Be nice and give me a name."

"No." In a lot of ways the older Kanda was much like the young one.

The other boy was getting frustrated now. "Why not? I _need _a name!" His voice was getting louder. "Why won't you give me a name?" He was getting irrationally angry, and suddenly it dawned on Kanda that there really was a boy in his house that he had just found in the boiler room, which looked exactly like him.

Suddenly there was a noise broke in, the distant sound a key sliding through the locking and then turning, the seal around the door breaking and the slide of the door opening. Both of the boys ran towards the front door, Kanda after the other, who seemed impossibly fast. He heard his father exclaim his name before he turned the corner, but at that exact moment slipped on the smooth floor instead, flying out to land in a crumpled heap.

Strangely, his father didn't say anything, instead laughing and patting the other boy on the head, ruffling his raven feathered hair. Looking up, Kanda was startled to see the older man not looking at him at all, and instead at the look-a-like in his place. As the older said something to the stranger boy, saying _his _name once again, the boy's eyes came to rest on Kanda, a smile slowly creeping up onto the white mask, eyes empty and black.

The next few weeks passed in confusion and fear for Kanda. It turned out that his family somehow couldn't see him at all, and any attempt at contacting them was futile. It was as if they couldn't see him at all, nor hear him. They did question the loss of food in the pantry, or sometimes the odd mess, but it was never really any concern of theirs. The other boy somehow always managed to stop Kanda from leaving any signs of himself, or at least any clue that something was not right. Anything that did get past the other boy, whether during the day when his mother was home and 'Yuu' was at school or even during dinner with the entire family was regarded with an odd passivity. Any shattered plates or spilled glasses passed with barely a glance, a glazed look to their eyes. Moving objects were simply turned a blind eye to, no matter how hard Kanda tried. It was devastatingly unfair to see the other boy cuddled and called "Yuu" by his mother, while he was treated as a ghost. He stopped turning to attention every time that name was called.

Only the boy could see him, and most of the time, he was good at pretending not to. One day, when Kanda was full to overflowing with feelings of hate and anger, fear and frustration that he attacked the other, he never seemed to be able to catch him; he turned suddenly, and was gone down the hall.

There appeared nothing wrong with the family, and certainly not with the little boy to anyone else. They were as quiet and secluded as ever, if not even more so when the mother retired again to bed. Word was to be had that she was rapidly loosing health. The father didn't look any better, rather looked more tired than ever, as if to the bone. The garden outside the house was wilting and the trees dying. The windows were never opened even in good whether and the children couldn't be seen playing outside any longer.

A month had passed since first opening the door and meeting the strange boy, and Kanda was feeling worse than ever. A strange heaviness was in the air, suffocating and thick. Silence was similar and all around him, his mother sleeping more hours while his sister read quietly in her room. The boy sat on his bed and did nothing, face characteristically blank. Kanda himself was huddled in the corner, Rabbit, who was looking considerably more scruffy and rather dirty covering his lower face as if to hide him.

"How can you stand this boring life?" The other's voice broke him from whatever trance he had been in. Kanda narrowed his eyes and clutched Rabbit closer, distrust evident, though this was the first time the other had spoken to him since that night.

"I mean, there's _nothing_ to do here!" The other threw his hands up as if in mock exasperation.

Kanda, oddly enough, shrugged. It was a rather boring life, he could admit.

The boy raised his eyebrows, smiling a bit. The reaction and emotion looked more real than the first time, but there was still something off, like he was acting. "I would, in fact, leave this silly little life if I had a choice." He sighed rather dramatically, "But alas, I don't. Still have a job to do, hmm?"

Kanda's little brain processed this with difficulty. The boy wasn't making much sense, after all. "What do you mean?" He asked, forehead creased in confusion.

The other boy giggled, eyes arching up in false amusement, but didn't elaborate. Soon they heard their mother call for Yuu, and the imposter scuttled off.

They didn't talk for another few weeks.

Things started happening, however that took Kanda's attention away from this sudden mystery. The most startling thing was that his sister was found passed out in her room one day, and was evidently sick. A doctor was called in and told the family that she was ill with an unknown illness, something that was rapidly and brutally deteriorating her body. Kanda spent the next few weeks mostly at his sister's bedside while his other self roamed outside the house. Kanda had quickly found he could not however, and so waited and watched with narrowed eyes for the boy.

He watched his sister as she became drawn and pale, thin as a stick, so that you could see her ribs even through her nightie. She couldn't keep anything down, and so another bowl was always brought with her meals. There was usually more on the platter than before when she was done. His sister, who had always insisted on playing with him and the other boys despite being a girl and younger. The one who had clambered into bed with him on stormy nights, to the comfort of both of them though Kanda would never admit it.

The smell of copper and salt was heavier in the air, the family scrunching their noses yet somehow not suspecting a thing.

Her mother was still sick, though it became more and more apparent that it was the little girl who was the sicker of the two. While Kanda's mother had a horrible cough that rattled through her and an ever-present weakness and wariness to her bones, little Sayuri's bones seemed to whittle down till they were ready to snap. Soon she rarely ever got out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom without falling, panting and wheezing when she was back to bed.

What Kanda couldn't understand for the life of him, was why the doctor wasn't doing anything. He had always been told that doctors were master fixers of things, and could cure a cold with a snap of the fingers. Perhaps he thought they were some form of oddball wizards.

He was wrong of course, but it was a valid question, nonetheless. And indeed the doctors did come and prescribe them medicines, procedures to follow and advice given. But they were stumped. The family should have been healed if they were doing everything right, and yet they weren't. They were just getting worse in fact, slowly and painfully. The first few gave up convinced and annoyed that the family wasn't following orders. The rest gave up because it because apparent that they were either too far along, or somehow destined by the gods to be plagued by these sicknesses.

In was during this month that Kanda woke to yelling and thumping of footsteps marching below. Yuu was sitting at the doorway, back against the wall, a snarling smile twisting his face. The black eyes turned on Kanda as he rose from the floor. They startled him though, more than normal, as this was the only time he felt he truly could see through into this beast, that this was what he was truly feeling right then. It disturbed him, frankly.

"They're arguing," said the boy, voice a dark whisper of black smoke. Kanda wondered if his teeth always looked that pointy.

The little boy stepped out into the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. He wondered if his sister was awake enough to hear them.

He slid his socked foot on the hardwood floor, feeling the smoothness. For some reason he felt he had to be quiet, and sneaky, even though they hadn't been able to see him for over two months.

Slowly and soundlessly he crept down the stairs, Rabbit clutched to his chest with one arm as the other felt the flat wall beside him. It was painted green, a very light, happy shade of green that he quite liked in the summer. Ever so slowly he made his way to the kitchen, standing to the side of the ajar door so that he could see his parents where they stood, but only a sliver of him showed.

They were arguing in whispers and yells, not ever regular volume but instead these exaggerated extremes, movements louder and sharper then Kanda had seen them in a while. It was like they only had energy for arguing and anger, never for day life and the rest of it.

They were talking about the sickness, Kanda realized, but also along with money and his father's work. His mother was accusing his father of drinking too much and not actually working. His father was accusing his mother of doing nothing all day and infecting the rest of the family. Kanda stood at the door another few minutes before suddenly the deadlock snapped and his mother was rushing at him, pushing the door open so that it slammed not into the wall, but instead into Kanda.

The little boy saw his mother rush by without looking back, despite his yelp. Kanda instead ended up sitting alone behind the door, clutching Rabbit as more tears soaked into its fur.

-

His sister died a week later.

Kanda hadn't been there when it happened; rather, Yuu had. His mother had come in with thin, frail Sayuri's lunch and seen her son and daughter on the floor; one crumpled in a heap while the other stroked her hair. She had apparently collapsed while taking a walk, and hit her head on the corner of a cabinet. When Yuu looked up, eyes innocent if not blank, hands covered in blood as he smeared it through her hair, Kanda's mother screamed and dropped the platter.

Yuu played the part perfectly. The confused little boy, rather new to the idea that someone that close to him had actually died, wouldn't be waking up. He sniffled and let drop tears at the exact right moment, like a regular actor. It was _impressive_.

Kanda himself had not cried straight away, but only that night, when he sat on her bed and smelt the stench more than ever. So much so that he couldn't smell what she used to be like anymore.

The funeral was held and body was adorned with bright green flowers, youthful and vibrant against the white and black slashes and splashes of the rest of the scene. Kanda hated it, as he watched them drive away through the window. Hated that color.

With Sayuri gone, it was like a support from a building had been removed; things started crumbling. His mother and father rarely spoke, either too each other or to Yuu, and avoided everyone just as much. Internally as well, they were crumbling alone. Kanda's mother's sickness was suddenly developing faster and faster. Kanda found a waste paper basket full of blood-splotched white tissues. Her coughs and hacking were more frequent and rougher, and Kanda thought she might soon crack and flake into nothing if they did not stop soon.

His father was no better, though from what Kanda had seen, he did not have the cough. Instead he looked like something was slowly but steadily sucking the life out of him, first the long-gone gleam in his eye then the fat in his skin, so that his face looked about ready to fall off more than ever. His movements were slow yet sharp and jerky, robotic and forced. It was painful to watch him.

Kanda and Yuu still never really spoke to each other, though Yuu would speak at him sometimes. Kanda never dignified them with an answer. Too caught up in the thick smog of silence, perhaps to even hear him. The emotions he had originally felt were long gone, and in their place a resignation that didn't fit well with him, yet stuck around anyway. He wondered what would happen next, what he would do in the future. Was he to be trapped in here forever? His young mind could barely comprehend the idea, and instead chose an easy out: not think of it at all.

Something did happen, however, to change all of this. Kanda woke up in the middle of the night to find Yuu gone and that scent hanging more heavily than ever in the air around him. It was silent in the house, and then a faint noise drifted to him.

_Shwiiiiick!_ Kanda blinked in confusion, that sounded familiar. He must know what it was…but for the life of him he somehow couldn't guess. He rose, Rabbit in hand as a blanket slid to the floor. There it was again! Now wasn't that funny…where could it be coming from?

In a split second the answer snapped into place in his mind, and he gasped in realization. But it wasn't coming from the boiler room now. No, instead it was already much closer, though muffled.

_Shwiiick!_

He moved gracefully to the door, opening it and venturing into the landing. The noise was less muffled now, a bit clearer and louder. It was coming from this floor, and there were only the bedrooms on it. Why would anyone be in his empty sister's? That left his parents.

Carefully, he placed an ear to the door, fingers tips like spider's legs resting lightly.

_Shwiiiick!_

He almost started at the suddenly clear, loud noise. As he turned to face the door, he was suddenly reminded of what had started this, all those months ago. Standing similarly in front of a door, scared and afraid, wondering what was behind it, what was making that noise? Oddly, he turned to look over his shoulder a moment. When he returned his gaze to the door, he found his hand on the handle and already turning.

The door opened, and his breath stopped.

The next few moments would only be remembered as snapshots of audio and visual. Each one loud and clear like his mind had stopped for exposure and caught every detail. Each one a picture in its own frame, a simple summary of the following for the study and reflection of.

The first was a masterpiece in black and white, and yet looked like someone had spilled red paint on it. His parents' bed, their dresser drawer and side tables. His parents in their own awkwardness, painted red for some reason. And then a dark, smaller figure in the corner, also painted in reds, holding something.

A series of small photos this time, one for each face in the room, and the horrible express each held. Yuu was grinning maniacally, teeth ruddy. He was holding a long, slick sword wet and gleaming with blood. He didn't look like Kanda at all, nor anyone Kanda had ever met. He didn't look _human_.

His parents again, more detail in red. A clip of a sobbing, small body struggling to stand.

And then, the other boy swings the sword through air and body mass, _shwiiiick!_

"Would you like a go?"

Kanda is angry. He doesn't like this and–he realizes that he has never hated nor despised anything in this much in his entire life. The boy is walking forward and it's the most he can do to not take a step back, not from fear but in absolute revulsion and loathing. The same scent that's soaked into the house, into the woodwork and the carpets, his beds and even Rabbit since the boy came infused the air, so that it was like he wasn't breathing air anymore but the scent of blood itself.

Kanda, in a series of steps, takes the mockingly offered handle, slick and slimy and cold in one hand, and takes it from the other child. Yuu steps back and grins, standing like he's viewing a picture he just took.

"You did it, you know?" Yuu said, face once more blank, "I stayed because of you, Yuu." He smiles mockingly, and if Kanda didn't feel repulsion before, he did now at that name. "You were just too fun to play with. But I'm done with you now." Yuu laughs.

Kanda, in a fit of anger much like he would display frequently in the future, saw red. The sword seemed to swing in slow motion, flying up to sink deeply into the other boy's abdomen. There is no sudden fright or guilt for Kanda, but rather a detached wonder at what he caused to happen.

Yuu on his part smiles, mask still in place while not seeming to feel the pain that should be there. But none the less falters, little hands clutching at the spilt red, trying to stop the spill from ruining the painting. But it runs out and down anyways, soon the lifeless mask and black eyes following in its path. Kanda is left standing alone with a cold sword in his hands and hot blood on them, the bodies of his dead parents still.

-

Kanda will walk away with a sword and distinct dislike of the colours green and red, along with a hate of people using his first name.

--

So I originally had this idea running around in my brain a few weeks ago, not actually specifically for D. Gray Man, but rather as just an interesting idea. The original idea was for a little boy to randomly meet another strange little boy in his basement boiler room. This child was death itself, come to take his sickly grandmother away, or something of the sort. Fortunately (for this would have been a very boring story otherwise), my friend screwed this all up by asking me to do some LavixKanda fluff as part of my Nanowrimo challenge. My brain threw that out the window and instead latched onto this idea, and boom boom bam bam this thing was coughed up. It actually connected in with canon ideas of Kanda's character quite well. It ended up becoming the story of how Kanda came to possess Mugen (I do hope you got that) and a bit of reasoning why the hell he's so screwed up. Though really, only Kanda could come away from such a scarring story and still have enough noodle to swing a sword at Akuma accurately.

I hope you also made connections with other things (remember in school? Be a smart reader: making connections and all that shit…), especially the references to Lavi. I'm a LavixKanda shipper–I couldn't help myself. X3

But something odd also happened while writing this: the boy that was supposed to be tangible death turned more and more into a reflection of Kanda. I started thinking of "Yuu" as Kanda's own personal Junior, or Dick (har ahar) to Lavi as to Kanda. Yuu is meant to be the uncontrolled version of all that is dark in Kanda. When Kanda takes the sword in the end, he's taking control of that darkness. That's why he's so damn stuck up and peevish about that thing. :D

I'll admit that I've only read up to around chapter 80, however, so if you were screaming at the screen while reading this about non-canon major mess-ups, please forgive me. I at least hope you enjoyed it. :3

-cheesynoodle

PS. "Poetaster" is actually a song by Miracle Fortress, a band I adore. I listened to the song a good many times while writing this, and while it probably has nothing to do with the actual plot, I liked the title.

PPS. I just looked it up (its actually a word?) and apparently its somebody who write bad poetry. Tee hee 3 If anyone is struck with sudden inspiration for a new title, suggestions are welcome. :3


End file.
